


A Child Is Not a Warrior

by OhanaHoku



Series: The Raven-Haired Warrior, A Raven-Haired Child [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Because he's worried about Mordred, Blood, Blood and Violence, Chains, Child Abuse, Child Soldiers, Childhood Trauma, Conditioning, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Merlin Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin), PTSD, Past Child Abuse, Protective Merlin, Torture - Freeform, merlin has issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23462641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhanaHoku/pseuds/OhanaHoku
Summary: When Arthur announces his plan to make Mordred a knight, Merlin protests. But not for the reason you may think.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Cenred (Merlin), Merlin (Merlin) & Everyone
Series: The Raven-Haired Warrior, A Raven-Haired Child [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764406
Comments: 39
Kudos: 571





	A Child Is Not a Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> Triggers are in the tags. Please read them first before you continue.

They were at the round table when Arthur decided to tell his closest friends about his plan. “I plan to make Mordred a knight.”

Merlin, who had been ordered to serve the others before taking a seat himself, startled. The water pitcher slipped out of his grip, splashing water all over the bottom of his trousers and boots as it clanged loudly against the floor.

Heads turned to look at him. “Merlin, really. Eight years as my servant, and you’re still as clumsy as ever. Clean that up and sit down before you spill the wine as well.” Arthur told him.

Merlin, though, was staring at Arthur with an incredulous look on his face. His mouth slightly open, his brow pinched, and his head turned a little as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “You… You can’t seriously be thinking of knighting Mordred.”

“That’s what I said. Why? What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, surprised by Merlin’s protest.

Merlin visibly recoiled at the question, his expression growing more distressed. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong!?” He shouted, not caring at the way the knights shifted uncomfortably, and Gwen flinched a little at the anger that bled into his voice. “Mordred is a  _ child, _ Arthur. He does not belong on a battlefield.”

The king, however, only laughed. “You can’t be serious. You’ve seen how well he handles himself with a sword.”

“That doesn’t matter! Mordred is seventeen, for Camelot’s sake! He shouldn’t have to kill people.” Merlin insisted.

“Really, Merlin. You’re overreacting. Mordred may be young, but he’s already killed. It’s not like it’s anything new for him.” Arthur pointed out.

The servant stood there, his hands clenching into fists. “He killed because he had to to survive, Arthur. But he’s safe here, now. You shouldn’t push him to kill again, just because he’s handy with a sword!” He shouted loudly. “You don’t know how-” He swallowed thickly, and Gwaine shifted in his seat, starting to get a bad feeling.

Merlin took a breath, relaxing his body as he uncurled his fists. When he continued, his voice was pitched low, but still loud enough for everyone to hear. “You don’t know how killing someone can affect a child.”

“What, and you do?” Arthur countered, looking at Merlin pointedly.

Merlin flinched, just a little, his eyes dropping to the floor.

Arthur smirked. “That’s what I thought. Now sit dow-”

“Cenred held no qualms about using child soldiers,” Merlin muttered.

Arthur looked up sharply at the near-whisper. Dread settled like a rock in the royal’s stomach as he belatedly remembered that Merlin grew up in Ealdor, a village in Cenred’s kingdom.

The others at the table were exchanging worried looks. They, too, knew that Merlin grew up within Cenred’s borders.

Merlin, his body so tense that he was almost trembling, slowly looked up at them. His voice was quiet but powerful. “I was six when Cenred’s men raided my village and took me to his castle.” Gwen gasped softly, but Merlin paid it no mind as he continued, his eyes moving slightly past the group, his eyes taking on a glazed, distant look. “A blade was pressed into my hands, and I was thrown into a dirty, dimly lit room that was barely a step up from a dungeon cell with three other boys. 

“Cenred only wanted the best. The strongest. We were told that only one of us could come out alive, and if we refused to fight, then our families would be killed.” Merlin murmured. He could still remember it.

_ Blood stained his hands, painted his chest. It was everywhere. In his mouth, on the walls, dripping down the blade onto the floor. Some of it was his, some belonged to the other children. But there was no way to make a clear distinction because there was just too much. _

“I was the one that made it out,” Merlin whispered, a tear slipping down his cheek and mirrored by the tears shining in the queen’s eyes.

_ They were screaming, crying, begging him to stop. But he couldn’t stop. If he stopped, his mom died. If he tried to use magic, then a fate worse than death awaited him. So he kept fighting, tears streaming down his cheeks as he slashed and stabbed, ignoring the warm blood that coated his hands. _

“Cenred didn’t like wasting time,” Merlin told them, his gaze drifting back to them, but his eyes still unfocused. “As soon as I killed them, I was taken to another room where my method was critiqued. My training started that very night.”

_ Head spinning, cuts stinging, Merlin stumbled, collapsing onto the floor. Hands roughly pulled him onto his feet, guiding him into a defensive stance as his wrists were grabbed, the man behind him moving him around like a puppet as he demonstrated the proper way to handle the blade. _

“Training went on for months like that as I was taught how to hold a dagger the right way, how and where to stab someone to make death instantaneous, how to hold my own in a fight,” Merlin said, fingers twitching as if gripping a dagger’s handle. Even now, years after he’d been in Cenred’s care, the servant kept a knife concealed in his boot at all times. He shifted a little, just to feel the reassuring press of the handle against his leg.

“I was almost seven when I engaged in battle for the first time. We were ordered to raid a village on the outskirts of Mercia that had refused to pay for Cenred’s protection.” Merlin’s lips trembled as he paused.

_ He had been strategically assigned to take out the leader of the town. No one would be looking for a child among the warriors, so he could slip through the line of warriors without being seen. Heart pounding, adrenaline racing through his veins, Merlin jumped onto the back of the village head, profusely apologizing as he plunged the dagger into the man’s heart. _

“I killed three men that day.”

_ The other two had seen their chief go down and rushed over with their weapons drawn. But they hesitated for a split second when they saw the child, giving Merlin the moment he needed to attack the first one, slashing his stomach before twisting out of the way of the sword the second man swung towards him. He spun around fluidly and sank his blade into the man’s lower back. The villager went down as his spinal cord snapped, and his legs stopped working, his shocked, pain-filled eyes looking up at Merlin, who apologized once again before kneeling down and snapping his neck cleanly. _

Merlin’s hands curled into fists again as he managed to make eye contact with Arthur once again. “And I hated every minute of it.”

_ He collapsed after, sobs racking his body as he dug his fingers into the dirt, begging the dead men to forgive him. Trying to make them understand that he didn’t want to kill them, that he had no choice. He stayed like that for nearly an hour as the battle ended, only stopping when one of Cenred’s knights yanked him to his feet by the collar of his shirt and told him to man up. _

“Merlin-”

The servant spoke right over Leon, though his eyes absently drifted to the knight. His gaze was once again distant, looking through Leon, rather than at him. “After the battle report, Cenred seemed to take an interest in me. He made it his personal project to teach and guide me.”

_ Cenred was even worse than Merlin’s previous instructor, pushing Merlin to the edge time and time again with his cruel teaching methods. He’d force Merlin to work to the point of exhaustion, only letting him rest when he was on the verge of collapsing. _

Merlin’s shoulders hunched up slightly as he remembered cowering before his king. “When I messed up, I was punished. Even the smallest mistake warranted extreme punishment. He used to keep me in chains for days in the dungeon, barely giving me enough food and water to survive.” Merlin reached up to tug on his kerchief lightly, the graze of the soft material against his neck soothing him.

_ Cold, biting metal against his neck, the collared chain only a couple feet long, keeping Merlin restrained against the moldy dungeon wall. Every movement Merlin made to try to reach the tray of food that had been left for him caused the metal to dig into his skin, rubbing his flesh raw and making it hard to breathe. _

“I was there for four years.” He said softly, more tears raining down his cheeks as memory after memory ran through his head, flash after flash of him killing for Cenred.

He closed his eyes, one last flood of tears flowing down his face. When he opened his eyes, it was clear the man was once again present and not looking into the past as he looked around the group. The servant sighed, tiredness settling deep in his bones, the servant exhausted and decidedly done with everything.

He turned to leave, and not a single person had the words to call him back.

Merlin gripped the door handle, pulling the door open and turning slightly to look back at those still seated at the table. “A child is not a warrior. A child should be protected by his kingdom, not protecting it himself.”

With that, the servant slipped out, the door closing with a quiet thump that seemed to echo throughout the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count - 1585. And there you have it. This idea came to me the other night and I just had to write it down. Now, I don't know how old Mordred is supposed to be canon-wise. I read something where it said he was eleven in season one, but it didn't explain how they knew that and I can't find any mention of his age in the show or on the wiki. But I headcanon that he'd be nine in season one, and therefore seventeen in season five.
> 
> Also, I've read other fics where Merlin was taken by Cenred, and I think it's taken from the Arthurian legend, but I'm too lazy to look it up, so here's my personal version of what could have happened if Cenred took Merlin.
> 
> Let me know what you guys think and if you'd like to read more based on this au! Have a lovely day, my readers!
> 
> P.S. Check out my [tumblr](https://ohanahoku-ao3.tumblr.com/) :P


End file.
